You Keep Me On My Toes
by shippershape
Summary: Clarke's best friend's brother keeps showing up at her dance studio. Which would be fine, if they didn't have a history, and she hadn't spent the past few years trying to forget him. She's spent three years telling herself she didn't mean anything to him. He has one shot to convince her that she means everything to him. ft Ballerina!Clarke


Clarke finished her stretches, straightening up with a sigh. It had been a long day of practice and conditioning, and she was more than ready to grab a shower and collapse on the couch. She looked up to catch sight of a very hot, very familiar brunette lurking in the doorway. She frowned. Her best friend, Octavia, had been dancing at the same studio as her for as long as she could remember, but it wasn't until recently that Octavia's older brother had started to come around. The fact that Clarke had been friends with Octavia since she was six meant that she'd spent a lot time with her friend's family, specifically her older brother, Bellamy. Sometime between Clarke developing a heinous crush on him, and her hooking up with her first boyfriend, Bellamy had dropped off the face of the earth. Eventually Octavia had told her he'd moved to Seattle for school, but clearly he'd come back.

Now it seemed like every other day Clarke would see him around the studio. She assumed he was driving his sister home, since Clarke was no longer doing it, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going on. The siblings were altogether too old for him to be driving her around, and Octavia usually just hitched a ride with Clarke.

It wasn't that Bellamy wasn't some serious eye candy, because he was, but having him hanging around looking perfect while she sweated into a disheveled mess was starting to get on her nerves. This studio was supposed to be her escape from the real world, a place where she could come and dance herself right out of reality for a few hours. Suddenly she found herself wearing lipstick to practice and it was certainly not for the benefit of any of the dancers. Scowling at him, Clarke pushed past Bellamy, toward the dressing room. She froze when she felt a hand on her arm.

"You mad at me, Princess?" She'd forgotten how deep his voice had gotten. How sexy that was.

"No." She said innocently, turning around. "Why would I be?" She'd also forgotten about his stupid nickname for her. She'd had a phase when she was younger, one that involved her wearing a crown everywhere she went. She hated that he'd been around to see that, hated that he remembered. Hated him. He grinned down at her. She hated that grin.

"No idea. But seeing as how you shoot me a serious death stare every time you see me, it seemed like I should ask." Even his eyes twinkled as he said it.

Clarke had been seventeen when she fell in love with him.

He'd been twenty, working at the autobody shop across the street from her house. He told his parents he wanted to take some time off, figure out what he wanted to do. Clarke had looked for him every day when she walked past the shop, hoping to catch sight of him, his coveralls unzipped and tied around his waist. It was every teenage girl's fantasy. Actually, from the way the women who brought their cars in had looked at him, it was probably the fantasy of every straight woman in the county. When he'd noticed her, he'd waved and the guys at the shop would always give him a shove, crack a joke about jailbait. Secretly, Clarke had been thrilled. She'd never been disillusioned about his feelings for her, but at least he noticed her.

As the year went on, things had changed. Clarke would bring him a soda, and they would sit together while he was on his break. He taught her a few things about cars, had been surprised when she'd shown to be a quick study. He helped her with her homework when he could, and she'd sit and hand him tools when his break was over. She kissed him once. It was not the kind of thing that they wrote about in romance novels where the girl always gets the guy. He'd let her down, gently, and she never told him that at eighteen it was her first kiss. But regardless of the rejection, Clarke's crush had turned into something more serious, and when he'd suddenly disappeared, she'd been heartbroken.

She never told Octavia about all the time she spent with Bellamy, and had never asked her where he'd gone. When it had finally come up in conversation, Clarke was already with Finn, and she had pretended it wasn't as important anymore. She hadn't even known he was back until a month ago, when he first showed up at the studio. She'd been nice, polite. Had tried very hard not the act like the heartbroken sap that she very much was.

But having him around all the time was starting to stir up old feelings, and that was the last thing Clarke wanted. She had sworn off men after her last boyfriend had left her for a girl he'd met on the internet. She was in a good place, her paintings were selling well, she was close to opening that gallery she'd always wanted. She was happy. She really didn't want to spend the next few years pining over someone who didn't want her back. Once was enough. She took a step back, trying to put a little distance between them and clear the fog his cologne was creating in her mind.

"I'm just tired." She muttered, trying once again to push past him. He didn't move. Clarke told herself the fluttering in her stomach wasn't panic, but it was. Every second she spent with him was reminding him of how she used to feel. About how she still felt. "Bellamy, what?"

"Come on princess, tell me what's wrong." He leaned down and whispered it into her ear. She yanked her arm from his grip.

"Don't call me that."

"What, princess? From what I remember, you're the one who demanded I address you by your 'royal title'."

"I was eight!" Clarke hissed, feeling the colour rush to her face. Embarrassed, tired, and increasingly frustrated by her inability to quash her old crush, Clarke turned on her heel and strode away. This time, he let her.

She made it all the way to her car before he caught up with her.

"Clarke, wait." She groaned as she heard the voice from behind her.

"Bellamy, I'm tired. I want go home. I want to take a shower. What I don't want, is to stand in this parking lot and try to convince you I'm not mad at you."

"What did I do?" He asked, the humor in his eyes gone, replaced with concern. Clarke sighed in exasperation.

"You know what, fine. I am mad at you. Happy? Can I go now?" She turned back to her car, opened the door. An arm reached around her and slammed it shut.

"What's going on?" When Clarke turned to face Bellamy, she was startled by the intensity on his face. His voice was low, dangerous. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but we used to be pretty good friends. Then I come back, you treat me like a stranger. And now you won't even look at me unless it's to shoot daggers out of your eyes. What the hell happened?"

Clarke fumed. It had been three years. Three years since he'd left and she'd decided that he had taken a piece of her fragile adolescent heart with him. Three years that she'd wondered if she really meant so little to him that he couldn't even tell her he was leaving. Three years of wondering if that kiss was the reason he'd gone.

"What happened? You left, that's what happened. If we were such good friends, how come you didn't tell me? How come you never called? How come I only found out you were home because you ran into me when you were picking up Octavia two months after you got back?" She let the words tumble out, one after the other, and it felt like weights were dropping from her back as she went.

"Clarke-" Bellamy looked shocked. She ignored him.

"I loved you. And I was stupid and eighteen and you were twenty-two and just… amazing. And you weren't interested and that was fine, that was appropriate. But you knew, Bellamy, I know you did. And you're right, we were friends, really good friends. And then you disappeared. Gone in the night. One of my best friends, and the guy I loved and you just… vanished."

"But Octavia-"

"Octavia didn't know. I never told her how much time we spent together, I never told her how I felt. It was cliché and embarrassing and I didn't want her to know. At first I assumed you were on vacation or something, and thenthree months later O finally told me. I know I was just a stupid kid to you, but you broke my heart. I was completely in love with you."

She took an unsteady breath and continued.

"And if it seems like I don't want you around all the time, it's because I'm having a really hard time convincing myself I don't feel exactly the same way three years later." She finally broke off, a little breathless. She could feel the stinging in her eyes, hated that she cried when she was angry. As good as it felt to finally, finally, get all that off her chest, she was terrified to look at him. Clarke remembered how he'd looked that night she kissed him, the pity in his eyes. She never wanted to see that look on his face again.

"Clarke." He grabbed her arm. She turned her face away. "Clarke!" Sighing, she turned to face him, but instead of pity, his eyes were burning with something else. If she didn't know any better, she'd have said it was lust. Suddenly he grabbed her, both hands on her face, and kissed her. And if she thought she'd kissed him before, if she thought she'd ever really kissed anyone before, she was wrong. This was something she'd never felt, like a million live wires had been placed along her neck where he touched her. He coaxed her mouth open and pressed her against her car, and Clarke forgot every reason she had for not wanting this. She reached up, fisting a hand in his hair. He groaned, and it sent her heart slamming into her ribcage. Without meaning to, she moaned his name.

He pulled away.

Clarke just stood there, dazed. She was half afraid that without the support of her car behind her she would fall flat on her face. Absently, she reached up to touch her mouth. It still tingled, like she'd been on the receiving end of an electric shock. She glanced at Bellamy. He looked like she felt, chest heaving, eyes black. All at once, it hit her, the reality of what had just happened. Her eyes widened.

"Wh-what was that?" She asked, finding it difficult to speak. Bellamy just looked at her. "What the hell was that?" She demanded, trying to fight off the mixture of panic and elation that was pressing on her chest.

"I don't-" He stopped, looked like he was struggling for words. "You're wrong. You were wrong back then. Yeah, you were eighteen, and yeah, I knew you loved me. But I didn't leave because I wasn't interested. You were so young, and just… you were brilliant. I was this twenty-two year old nobody, with no education. I worked at a shitty body shop for Christ's sake. I wasn't good enough for you." Clarke could only gape at him. For years she'd played their time together over and over in her head. She had never imagined this. "I knew I was in love with you, and I knew I was no good for you, so I left. I wanted to get my life together, to be someone that could keep up with you. I didn't call because it was too hard. I missed you."

Clarke felt like she couldn't breathe. She'd been wrong, so wrong, and instead of relief she felt something regretful and bitter and sad.

"You missed me."

"How could I not miss you? I thought about you every damn day." Sighing, he reached out, wrapped an arm around her waist. He tugged her forward, and Clarke let her head fall against his chest. It felt natural, like they'd spent their whole lives intertwined like that. In some ways they had, she realized.

"I missed you too. I didn't stop loving you, you know." Clarke told his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Even when you dated all those other guys?" He asked. She frowned.

"Even then. And it wasn't that many guys." He chuckled, it rumbled through his chest. Something about the way it vibrated against her cheek made Clarke feel alive.

"How about you let me give you a ride home?" He offered.

"My car?"

"I'll drive you back to get it in the morning." Ignoring his optimistic assumption that she would spent the night with him, she nodded into his t-shirt. He slid his arm down so they could walk toward his truck.

Clarke suddenly stopped.

"But what about Octavia?" She glanced over at Bellamy. He grinned sheepishly.

"Octavia got a car over a month ago. I've been coming here to see you."


End file.
